


Truce

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: BAMF Spencer Reid, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cock Warming, Dom Spencer Reid, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Dream Sex, F/M, Handcuffs, Hate Sex, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29495019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Reader is the new BAU Chief and Spencer is bitter about it.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Kudos: 103





	Truce

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Potentially triggering for those sensitive to dub-con, but both are consenting.

The Bureau was so much calmer at night. While there were a few brave souls burning the midnight oil, the space was remarkably bare. Everyone who remained had tucked into some seemingly safe crevice, hiding away from judgmental eyes that might hold them accountable for taking too long to finish whatever project lay before them.

I suppose that in a way, that’s what I was doing, too.

One might think it was inappropriate to consider a person a project, but I wasn’t sure how else to classify the enigmatic Dr. Reid. Although I tried to give everyone I met the benefit of the doubt, it was hard to ignore the hostility he exuded. It wasn’t anything violent or unmanageable— but it was there. Ever-present and demanding to be noticed.

I didn’t blame him. It was my understanding that I had replaced a woman he had worked with for over a decade, and the brief interactions I saw between them showed an obvious affection for one another.

It wasn’t my fault Agent Prentiss left. Spencer knew that, too, but it was probably easier to blame her absence on me. It was a shame, really, that he clung to that grudge like it would bring her back. Because truth be told, I quite liked the doctor. Then again, perhaps that animosity was precisely what drew me to him.

Regardless, it played a part in the decision that led me to the empty office beside mine. I was surprised to find him there, certain that he would have run straight home after such an exhausting case. But I guess I understood his restlessness. This moment had been a long time in the making.

“I’m glad that you like it,” I called from the door, finally earning enough of his attention to see the way his eyes glowed amber in the weak yellow lights. “You’ve been here too long not to have your own office.”

It was indisputable. I didn’t know of any agent that had been there as long as him who hadn’t moved into an office by this point. While I liked to assume that it was by choice, his excitement over the opportunity betrayed his words.

“I don’t mind being in the bullpen. An office creates more opportunities for secrets.”

“Is that what you think? I’m full of secrets that I’m hiding from you?” I asked, hoping to meet that elusive energy. When it came to my hands, though, I kept them to myself. Barely. I crossed them over my chest, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to follow them or not. If he did, it would be further proof that his aloofness was a facade. But if he didn’t, it marked him as a challenge to be won.

Unsurprisingly, his eyes stayed locked with mine, even when I stalked forward. He maintained that relentless intensity regardless of how much I breached his personal space. Even when I could feel the warmth radiating off him and feel his breath against my face. I leaned forward, breaking eye contact so that I could whisper in his ear, “I’m assuming that you also think that’s the only reason I’ve given you this office. To... persuade you to keep them?”

“I hope not,” he droned back, bored and bitter, “My loyalty can’t be bought.”

Doubtful.

“It’s not just money, Spencer,” I purred, unable to stop my hand from reaching out to the man who would normally flinch at the notion. But he didn’t, standing steadfast while I slid the silk of his tie between my fingers.

“It’s… Security. Comfort. Authority. Those are priceless things.”

The stoic demeanor shattered with the silence as Spencer gave a low chuckle and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. For the first time since I entered the room, I noticed how stifling the air seemed. How suffocating his presence could be. The heat that bloomed over my skin made his breath almost feel cool against my cheek.

“You have no authority to give.”

Then, he was gone. His hand didn’t push me away, instead falling from me like it wouldn’t be worth the effort to try to move me at all. Expecting me to stay frozen like proper prey, even when his eyes weren’t watching.

But I wanted them to look. I wasn’t looking to be freed. That wasn’t the kind of person I was. I would rather choke on the full force of his rage than let it stay under the surface, always wondering what could have been made of it.

“You’ve never liked me,” I announced, mostly to see how he would respond.

He didn’t, really. His movements just slowed as he rounded his desk. His fingers dragged over the mahogany and I started to lose myself to thoughts of how it might feel to be in its place. To feel his fingers explore my skin like the worn wood.

I could feel his eyes on me before I looked up, and once I did I was met with a smug quirk of his lips. Like he could read the lewd thoughts and feel the fire that had sparked life in me. If I wasn’t careful, I would forfeit all power over the encounter.

And I wanted the power… Right?

“Why is that? Have I done something to offend you?”

Spencer laughed again, dropping the intensity from completely overwhelming to a simple chill down my spine.

“I don’t dislike you. I just...” he said with a tilt of his head and a click of his tongue that proceeded to press against the roof of his mouth in a terrible troubling display of its dexterity.

“I see through you.”

It was, perhaps, the most terrifying answer he could have given. The words alone were horrifying considering the images currently rolling through my psyche; thoughts of his tongue flat against the column of my throat and his nails dug into my hips. I could practically taste the bittersweetness of his lips and the way they would linger between breaths.

“Enlighten me,” I whispered, clearing my throat like it would somehow stop him from noticing how breathy my voice had become.

His eyebrows shot up at the request, but I could only relish in the surprise it caused him for a few seconds. Because as soon as the giddiness started, Spencer raised his hand, beckoning me closer to him without so much as a word.

And I followed. I hated the sound of my steps and how they moved as swiftly as my heart that seemed to increase directly proportional to the space between us. He noticed, too, letting it inflate the already too big ego that I’d witnessed on my first day.

The worst part about it was that I couldn’t fight him. He was talented enough at his job that his perception of me couldn’t be that far off from reality. I just couldn’t bring myself to try to predict what that perception was because I wasn’t even sure if I was ready to admit it to myself.

But then I had done this, placing myself under his scrutiny and failing to protect any of my dignity in the process. So, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he spoke, slowly and quietly enough that I had to move closer to him to hear the words, “You crave validation _so_ badly.”

The steady thumping of my heart had shifted to a completely erratic and unpredictable rhythm, leaping into my throat and preventing me from swallowing the anxiety and anticipation that grew with each passing second. Spencer seemed dedicated to making it worse, reaching out a gentle hand to cup my chin and keep my face displayed for his analysis.

“You’re pretty and clever enough that you usually don’t have to fight very hard for it. And naturally, when someone refuses to give it to you, you want it _even more_.”

I didn’t need to be a profiler to know that he was referring to the two of us. That wasn’t the part that got to me, though — the sexual tension between the two of us was as blatant as his disdain for me — it was the fact he was unwilling to bend. Each step was expected to be taken by me so that he could maintain plausible deniability in the event things went poorly.

As if they would. As if the two of us could ever come together in a regrettable way.

“Is that it? You just want to see me beg for your affection?” I said, no longer afraid that his interest was imagined. He was much too close, too clear and correct in his enunciation and profile. That didn’t stop with his response, either.

“You don’t want _affection_.”

“No?”

“No.”

He was so confident in his answer that I was forced to believe him. My entire body was burning with need, every cell vibrating with the urge to throw myself at his mercy. To drown myself in his eyes and beg for him to fish me from their depths. With the little bit of sense I had left, I managed to ask one last question. A question I hoped to God that he knew the answer to.

“What do I want, Spencer?”

He responded first with his hand resting under my chin, brushing the knuckles down my throat and hearing the way my breath hitched in response. Then, with a bit more excitement, he muttered, “Security.”

There was no pause in his descent, his hand brushing over my chest like it had every right to be there. It didn’t stray from its path, either, not until I was shaking before him with a tensed stomach and legs tightly pressed together. The pressure only got worse when he tucked two fingers into the waistband of my skirt, tracing the edge until he could settle at my hip.

“Comfort,” he continued.

What a torturous thing to bring up. There was nothing resembling comfort here. There was only the sweetest, sharpest anticipation. The knowledge that what I wanted most was right in front of me. If I could only play my cards right and say the things he wanted to hear, then I could have him.

But that was precisely the problem. The thing he wanted most from me wasn’t meaningless begs or romantic displays. Hell, he didn’t even want my submission. Not if it wasn’t earned. He didn’t want a slave. He wanted a game. He wanted to prove to me that of the two of us, there was only one of us who could give the last thing I had promised him.

“Authority.”

In that moment, all I felt were his nails sinking through thick fabric to mark my skin before he forced me to turn. The world felt like it was in slow motion, and I could feel every minute change in our positions. Including the coldness that captured my wrists, stopping my hands from coming forward in an attempt to cushion my fall.

Just before my face hit the desk, my whole body jerked back with the sound of rattling chains from work-issued cuffs.

I stayed there, staring at the patterns in the grain that danced in my vision. I made no other movement; I felt so stuck, paralyzed with shock and lust that felt unbearable. But Spencer didn’t need my help. He tugged on the restraints until my back was pressed against his chest and he could comfortably wrap his arm around my waist once more.

“You got me,” I chuckled, speaking of both his apt analysis and my current physical predicament. He didn’t need clarification— he was fully aware of how compromised I was in every sense of the word.

The bastard enjoyed it, too.

“Yes, I did.”

“You gonna let me go?” I asked without ever fighting against the metal.

“Do you want me to?” he answered with his own rhetorical question. At least, I assumed he didn’t require a response based on the way his hands began trailing back up my waist at a tantalizing pace.

When I followed my instincts and ignored him the best I could, I was rewarded with a firm, arrogant hand on my chin. He turned me to face him from the little distance still between us as he teased, “If I’m any good at my job – which I am – the answer is a very clear ‘ _no_.’”

I couldn’t help but laugh; both from the smugness in his features and the fact that it was justified.

“I should write you up for insubordination.”

“Is it defiance if I’m doing what you want?” he shot back, abandoning his hold on the cuffs to pull the end of my shirt free from my skirt. And although it was just loosening fabric, I felt lightheaded at the gesture.

When nimble fingers began fiddling with the buttons, I thought I might actually break. Because there was no reason to unbutton the top knowing that it had to stay on. He just wanted to force me to stand there and let him do it. My jaw stayed screwed shut, but the rest of me melted against him. Spencer happily took the first blatant hint of my submission.

“You do want this, don’t you?”

“ _Yes,_ ” I answered sharply, the word sounding more like a breath than speech. I loved the way it brought a smile to his face. He found his own comfort in the answer, no longer needing to fear that he was crossing a boundary. Of course, that also permitted him to become bolder.

His fingers got faster until I felt the cold air hit the heated skin of my chest. But before they could be too affected by the feeling, Spencer’s hand dipped under my bra, carefully fondling one of my breasts while my whimpers grew louder.

“You like it when I touch you like this?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I simply nodded against his shoulder. My face was still turned towards him, but my eyes fluttered shut. The sight of that smirk in the metaphorical and literal darkness of the room was too devastating to stand.

“Such a good girl. You’ve been trying so hard to get my attention,” he praised, “What will you do now that you have it?”

There was no room for humility in his embrace. It would be easily discredited by the way my face burned and my shackled hands still tried to grab fistfuls of his shirt.

“Anything. I’ll do anything you want,” I rasped, “I want to make you feel good.”

I expected the laugh that followed as much as I expected his hand pressed against my upper back. “Yeah, right. Selfish brat,” he muttered before forcing me forward.

I slammed against the desk with enough force to hear shifting furniture. But surprisingly, there was no pain. I blamed it on the fact every nerve in my body was firing at once, pushing waves of goosebumps over my skin that had already started to stick to the polished wood. It didn’t bother me. I never intended to move.

Even when I heard his belt buckle come undone, I did nothing. In fact, if I’d had control of my hands, I would have helped him hike up my own skirt. I wasn’t going to complain about him having to do it, though. There was something exciting about him having to do it. Him having to acknowledge that he wanted this just as badly as I did.

When the fabric slid up my legs and exposed flimsy cotton, Spencer didn’t even take the time to remove it. No, he simply moved it to the side and gently ran one finger through the slick folds. That level of intrusion alone sent waves of pleasure through me. I nearly rolled my ankle from my unsteady stance in heels, but I was stopped by his hands holding my hips steady.

“But don’t worry. I know we’ll both enjoy this.”

Although I thought about answering, about mocking his confidence, he didn’t give me a chance. I felt the head of his arousal slowly entering me, forcing open the tense muscles to accommodate him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned when my legs started to shake before he was even halfway inside.

I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t relax. This was the culmination of weeks of tension and fantasies that were finally coming to life. I wanted the experience to drag on for as long as it could. But Spencer had a different idea. Pulling almost all the way out of me, he let out a quiet, disgruntled growl before slamming back into me at full force. My muscles burned, tightening around him while I choked on sobs that were pouring out of my throat.

“That’s it, pretty girl. You can take it,” he cooed, lovingly petting my head before pressing it harder against the wood, “Cry if you have to.”

His permission did nothing but make me want to disobey him out of spite. My wrists struggled, pulling at the chains while I rocked on my heels to try and force more movement from him. To try to steal some of the authority back.

Depending on perspective, some might say it was a mistake. I didn’t see it as such. I got what I wanted.

“Don’t tease me, bitch,” he spat. His hand that had been pressing me against the desk wound through my hair, pulling me up just to remind me what freedom felt like before he stole it away again. “Take what you’re given and be grateful.”

“Yes, sir,” I squeaked. But most of my energy went into trying to suck desperate breaths in. I could practically taste the old polish that had soaked into the wood.

I’d hoped that my second showing of submission would be enough to grant me some release. I felt his hesitance waning and making room for lust, but then we both heard it — the muffled casual conversation happening in the hallway.

Just as I gasped, Spencer lifted me from my position and slapped a hot, sweaty palm over my mouth and nose. The sudden loss of air had me whining for an entirely different reason. One that he apparently did not sympathize with. Without pulling out of me, he dragged both of our bodies back to sit in his chair.

The _second_ that we were situated, he held tighter against my face and hissed, “ _Shut the fuck up._ ”

My good behavior was rewarded relatively quickly, as he only waited a few more torturous seconds before lifting his thumb to allow frantic breath to break free. It was the only thing I could hear, but Spencer’s eyes were fixated on the shadows passing by the window.

Their conversation carried on unbothered by the chaos happening behind locked doors. Inside of that room, however, was an entirely different story.

I didn’t even notice my hips had started rocking until Spencer tried to stop them with his only free hand. He would realize quickly that he would have to choose between muzzling me and halting the action. To my surprise, he chose the latter.

I immediately used all the air available to whimper at the feeling of him still inside of me. It was impossible to ignore, even — no, _especially_ — with the risk of being caught. Every time my stomach tensed, I felt him twitch in response. Eventually, even that was enough to elicit whorish moans from deep in my chest that even Spencer couldn’t have hidden behind his hand.

Holding me down with nails cutting into the skin of my thighs, Spencer repeated with even more frustration, “I told you to _shut up_.”

“I can’t. It feels too—” the words cut off by a desperate, broken moan, “—too fucking good.”

By the time he relented, lifting my hips and forcing me back down on him, I was unable to speak. He knew it, too, taking the chance to humiliate me for surrendering my dignity to him in a matter of minutes.

“You like sitting here and keeping it warm for me?” he mocked, “You like to feel how it moves inside of you every time you tense?”

He already knew the answers. He could feel my muscles pulsing around him with every syllable and the wetness gathering at the base of his cock. That didn’t stop him, though, and he made even more of a point to remain still as he whispered into my ear, “You’re making a mess, sweetheart.”

“Please,” was all I could think to reply. Somehow, he managed to understand the meaning behind the plea.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, letting his fingers find the soft skin of my stomach to draw gentle patterns over it. Tears had gathered in my eyes by the time I opened them to look at him. What I found were eyes full of want and warmth; brown eyes crashing through my defenses and reading the darkest desires that lived in the deepest parts of me.

He saw the confirmation he needed, but asked the question, nonetheless. Seeking my consent for the ultimate show of his possession.

“You want me to come inside of you?”

Again, I begged, “Please.”

That time, my hips started to rock more insistently, grinding against him and feeling every detail of his length still inside of me. Spencer was watching me with a look that felt like a reprimand. It continued even after I stopped moving and bit down on my lip to stifle my own sounds.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Please,” I whined, trying to avoid giving him the last of me. To prevent him from taking everything in a clean sweep and leaving me wholly his. It was a fruitless battle. Because as soon as he thrust further into me, I realized I had already lost the last of my dignity a long time ago.

“ _Say it_.”

“Please!” I cried, becoming breathier and quieter with each word until there was barely any volume left, “Please, Spencer. Please… I want you t-to… come inside o-of me.”

Everything about him changed in that moment. Tight fists loosened with his breathing pattern, indicating that he had found his own freedom in what I’d hoped would be my final submission of the night. His lips dragged over my cheek so delicately that for a second I’d thought he would break me free of my cuffs and hold me closer.

But, somewhat thankfully, that wasn’t what happened. Instead, Spencer lifted me from his lap and pushed me forward. That time there was nothing to break my fall and my cheek hit the desk that had grown cold in my absence.

Spencer didn’t waste any time in continuing where we’d left off, slipping into me with significantly less resistance than before. My body welcomed him as a distraction from my throbbing cheekbone and unsteady ankles.

“You’re such a perfect, pretty little slut,” he groaned. His pace grew faster, and with each taunt, he slammed into me harder. The few items on the desk rattled around me, but I was hung up on hearing every word he said. Each word was punctuated with a particularly brutal thrust, causing the edge of the desk to dig into my stomach.

“Desperate fucking whore,” he continued, letting his pitch drop with his hand pressing against the side of my face, “my favorite fucking _toy_.”

It was impossible to ignore the feeling of winding in my gut. We could both feel the end approaching, but we clung to the high of one another. Spencer’s chest heaved as he lowered himself over me, forcing himself deeper at the new angle. But that wasn’t the real reason he’d done it— he wanted to be closer to me. He wanted me to hear the way his voice faltered as he whispered, “I’ll take care of you so long as you give me what I want.”

“Anything,” I answered.

He knew it was the truth. So he wasted no time in giving me my final command before burying himself to the hilt inside of me one final time. 

“Come for me.”

The world shattered with us. The pulsing of his cock caused the fluttering muscles around him to shake even more violently, and when I felt him fill me with his release, the most blissful serenity overcame me. Every breath I took felt like it came from his lungs. Every twitch of each muscle was under his command.

Still, I knew that I had given myself to him long before then. This time, it was his submission. It was the loss of the pressure around my wrists and the littering of soft kisses over the side of my neck. I could feel his heart beating even when he withdrew and gently covered me with the soaked panties he’d carelessly pulled to the side.

My arms were too limp to lift me, but I didn’t need them to. Spencer’s arms wrapped around me, lifting me back to my feet and letting me rest against him until I was ready to leave.

But he didn’t know how badly I wanted to stay, because as soon as I opened my eyes, I saw the panic in his eyes.

“What now?” he asked, and I didn’t have an answer.

_**Knock. Knock.** _

I jumped at the loud sound at the door, expecting to bump into Spencer but finding only the cold, rigid back of my desk chair. I stayed there, disoriented and staring straight ahead at the wall that I had entirely forgotten someone was commanding my attention.

And there stood Spencer, both confused and greatly concerned about finding his new Unit Chief asleep at her desk.

“Oh. Sorry, I wasn’t actually expecting you to be here yet… but I saw the light on.”

I could barely follow his words, too busy trying to fix the bird’s nest on my head and the wrinkles in my clothes. Not to mention the efforts taken to try and rub my eyes free of any sign of the images my mind had just created.

“Did you... sleep here?” he mumbled, already knowing the answer from the fact I was still wearing the same clothes he’d seen me in and the bags under my eyes.

“Um. Yeah, I-uh-I guess I did. Wow.”

“Don’t worry. It happens to all the new Unit Chiefs,” he said with an awkward, dishonest chuckle that did not assure me in the slightest. Despite that, he approached me fairly easily. Comfortably. Like he had done in the dream.

I, on the other hand, looked anything but comfortable. Each step made me inch back in my chair until I hit the bookshelves behind me. Spencer’s eyes narrowed at the sound, but still found the wherewithal to roam over my nervous figure, still twitching and trembling with tensed legs.

“Did you dream about anything interesting?”

I knew then, by the smug tilt of his voice and the soft curve of his lips, that I’d been caught.

“Hm... no... nothing... just... you know,” I managed to mutter. And although he wasn’t convinced, Spencer let me go with what little was left of my dignity.

“Right. Well, I’m going to go get coffee. You should probably do the same.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I should,” I said quickly, hoping it would cut the conversation short.

But right before he was able to step back over the threshold and leave me to die of embarrassment and need in the privacy of my own office, a thought struck me.

“Hey Spencer?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning back to me with an intense curiosity and a now visible smile.

“What’s up?” he innocently replied.

“How would you feel…. about getting your own office?”


End file.
